


let's see how this plays out

by bearfaces



Category: BROCKHAMPTON (Band)
Genre: Crushes, First Kiss, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Skateboarding, this isn't serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 12:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18250250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearfaces/pseuds/bearfaces
Summary: ciarán thinks matt likes him. he also thinks he might like him back.





	let's see how this plays out

**Author's Note:**

> this came out of a convo i had with a friend about how matt and ciarán seem like the most odd couple pair to be roommates on tour :-) enjoy

Ciarán brought it up for the first time in Kiko’s backyard at a Fourth of July cookout. He was wearing black jeans and a white t-shirt, despite the boiling LA heat, only venturing outside to take a seat next to Ian, who’s intertwined with Jaden on a fold-out chair. He sat quietly, as if waiting to be noticed, but something on the tip of his tongue ready to be said. 

 

“Hey,” Jaden said, acknowledging him first. He shifted Ian on his lap and leaned forward to give Ciarán a fistbump. 

 

“Hey,” Ciarán gave a half-hearted smile and rubbed his arm. 

 

“Why are you wearing jeans, man,” Ian asked, pointing at Ciarán’s legs. “Are your skinny legs not cooking inside there?”

 

Ciarán shrugged and looked over to where the others are, running around in their swimsuits and throwing water balloons. He took a deep breath and leaned forward, then, intensity in his eyes. “I need to ask something.”

 

“Mhm?” 

 

“Does Matt like me?”

 

Ciarán went a bit red as both Jaden and Ian started to laugh. He quickly looked around and hushed them. “Cut it out. I just need to fuckin’ know, he’s always--”

 

He was cut off by a water balloon landing near his feet and he pulled back, nearly falling over in the lawn chair. When he looked up, Matt was standing in front of him in gaudy American flag swim trunks, his bleach-blond hair wet from water balloons, droplets clinging to his bare chest. 

 

“Hey, Ciar.” He grinned down at Ciarán, the sun shining around him, making him almost golden. Matt looked over at Ian and Jaden. “‘Sup, asswipes.”

 

“Homophobe? You a fucking homophobe, Matt?” Ian flipped his best friend off and Matt laughed, running off to dodge a stream of a water gun from HK. Ian looked over at Ciarán once Matt was out of earshot. “Who knows if he likes you. Personally, I just wanna see how this plays out.” 

 

“Thanks, very helpful,” Ciarán grumbled, standing and excusing himself from the lawn chairs. He grabbed himself a can of beer from a cooler and went to stand in the shade near the fence, watching as the others continued laughing and throwing water balloons. 

 

Carelessly, Ciarán cracked open the beer and foam began to overflow. His white shirt was soaked through with beer and clinging to his stomach. Ciarán groaned. His favorite shirt, too.

 

He threw the beer in the trash and went inside, stone faced and fists clenched in anger. He found the bathroom and closed the door quietly, sighing through his nose. He took off his shirt and checked his phone to make sure it wasn’t damaged. Ciarán used a towel to wipe off his torso and try and dry his shirt, but a yellowish stain was already forming. He groaned, head falling and hands clenching the bathroom counter.

 

First worrying about Matt, now this. Could this day get any worse? Ciarán wished he could just forget about that nagging question in the back of his head - what were Matt’s true feelings towards him? If he could just forget about that, he could maybe just have a normal day and enjoy the party like everyone else. 

 

It wasn’t that Ciarán felt weird about a guy liking him, either. It was that it might be  _ Matt _ , of all people. They were roommates, friends, bandmates. Nothing more. At least, Ciarán didn’t think so. Sure, they knew more about each other than most people did about their friends, but Ciarán really wasn’t “most people” anymore, none of them were.

 

The feeling came up first when Matt had so enthusiastically claimed Ciarán as a roommate on tour. He’d practically jumped the gun and yelled Ciarán’s name, startling everyone in the room when Ian was explaining they’d be needing to double up as roommates. Then, Matt made things more obvious by the little things. He’d touch Ciarán, grab his shoulder or bump his wrist. He wasn’t shy about touching, he wasn’t shy about anything. 

 

Ciarán, on the other hand was shy enough for the both of them. He didn’t even change in front of Matt. It wasn’t a prudence thing, it was just being a bit cautious. Ciarán was more self conscious than anything. That, and the possibility that Matt might like him? It was a recipe for disaster.

 

Ciarán looked at himself in the mirror. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up and sighing. The best choice at this point would be put on the stained shirt, ask Kiko for a spare clean shirt, then return it later. He could worry about Matt later.

 

“Oh, sorry.”

 

Before Ciarán could even react, Matt was in the bathroom with him, the door slightly open. He mentally kicked himself for not locking the door. 

 

“Damn, you’re stripping down in here? And I thought the party was outside.” Matt said, smile crookedly hanging off his mouth. 

 

Ciarán went red and pulled his shirt on. “I spilt beer all over myself.”

 

“You wanna borrow my shirt?” Matt held out a crumpled up ball of fabric that seemed dry enough. “I was coming in here to piss and change, but if you wanna wear it I can go shirtless. Besides,” he flexed with his other arm, “I wouldn’t want to disappoint when it came to this killer bod.”

 

Ciarán snatched the shirt out of Matt’s hand. “Thanks,” he said, voice low and gaze even lower. 

 

“No problem, dude,” Matt slapped Ciarán’s back as he passed him, going further into the bathroom as Ciarán left. 

 

Ciarán quickly changed into Matt’s shirt in the bedroom, leaving his wet shirt in the kitchen to dry. He went back outside, fishing his cigarettes out of his back pocket. He lit the cigarette and stood in the shade, fidgeting with the hem of Matt’s shirt. 

 

A tap on the shoulder made Ciarán look up. He squinted from the bright LA sunshine, which lit up Joba’s blond hair like a wildfire. 

 

“Is that Matt’s shirt?” Joba asked as he took Ciarán’s lighter for his own cigarette. He looked at a blushing Ciarán, a cigarette dangling between a toothy grin. He didn’t say anything else, which might have been the worse than anything else.

 

Ciarán shoved Joba and took back his lighter, making Joba laugh. They smoked in silence, then, watching as the party began to simmer down. Ciarán leaned against the fence, sighing out a cloud of smoke. He watched as Matt took a seat on a lawn chair next to Merlyn and Romil. Matt’s smile seemed to shine. 

 

“He flirts with everyone,” Joba said, then. It was like he was reading Ciarán’s thoughts. He stubbed out his cigarette and flicked the butt into a trash can filled with soda cans and paper plates. “He’s got to. I mean, look at him.” He pointed as Matt cracked some stupid joke, making Ian pull a face and throw a balled up napkin at him. “He loves it, he’s an extrovert. That’s how he, y’know. Shows people he cares.” 

 

Ciarán finished his cigarette, still quiet. He didn’t talk much. Joba knew this.

 

“It could just be you’re seeing what you want to.” 

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Ooh. Sorry.” Joba held his hands up in defense. He smiled, though. “I’m just messing with you, dude.” 

 

Sometimes Joba knew too much and knew what to say too well. 

 

“I don’t like him, I just… I think it’s weird. He’s very… enthusiastic. I mean, fuck, he just…” Ciarán sighed again, frustrated. He ran a hand through his hair before his arm fell to his side again, defeated. “He’s straight, first of all.”

 

Joba shrugged. “Has he said that?”

 

Ciarán scowled.

 

“I’m just saying.”

 

“You’re always saying.”

 

“Maybe so.” Joba laughed. He put an arm around Ciarán, yanking him closer and squeezing his shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s get back to the party, the sun’ll set soon and then we’ll get to do firecrackers.” 

 

Firecrackers were probably the only good thing about being a foreigner in America on Fourth of July, and they were sure to get Ciarán’s mind off Matt. At least for a little bit.

 

— 

**_new group chat_ **

**dom** : w

**merlyn** : man fuck this

**ian** : we are on 24 hour ciarán and matt lockdown

**dom** : ian…

**_joba has renamed the group “i just live here”_ **

**_ian has renamed the group “operation: get cici and matty b raps together”_ **

**_joba has renamed the group “maybe we shouldn’t mess with our friends’ romantic lifes”_ **

**_ian has renamed the group “stop being a pussy”_ **

**dom** : are yall really talking thru the name of the gc? 

**dom** : on god?

**merlyn** : on spiderman?

**ian** : listen i just wanna see how this plays out

**ian** : don’t you joba?

**ian** : don’t you?

**joba** : i mean

**ian** : EXACTLY

**_joba has renamed the group “on spiderman we gonna get ciaran some matt coochie”_ **

**_dom has renamed the group “white people have no rights”_ **

 

— 

 

Ciarán had his headphones in, angsting about something in his journal, so he hadn’t realized Matt was talking to him until he was hit with a small ball of rubber bands. He yanked out an earbud and looked across the room to where Matt was sitting on his bed, acting nonchalant. “Yes…?”

 

“I’m bored. Wanna go to the skatepark?” Matt stood, stretching. His shirt, which was the one he’d leant Ciarán a few weeks ago at Kiko’s, rode up, showing a sliver of skin and the waistband of his underwear. He let out a groan before relaxing again. “We could get In-N-Out after?”

 

Ciarán paused his music, looking Matt up and down with a furrowed brow. “It’s almost eleven.”

 

“And? That means the skatepark will be empty.” Matt was already pulling his shoes on. “I’ll drive.”

 

“I don’t skate.”

 

“I can teach you,” Matt said, like he did every time Ciarán reminded him that he didn’t skateboard. For some reason, this time it made Ciarán’s stomach feel like static. Matt put on a cap and turned to his roommate, tilting his head a bit and smiling. “Promise I won’t let you fall.”

 

Ciarán sighed. It wasn’t like he was doing much of anything else anyways. He got up and pulled his shoes on before following Matt. 

 

The skatepark was empty and dark. The overhead lights were dim from lack of maintenance and need for new light bulbs. Ciarán sat on the edge of a ramp, watching as Matt attempted to grind rails and jump stairs in the dark. Prince played from Ciarán’s phone into the night. When he looked up, sometimes he could pretend the satellites overhead were stars. 

 

Matt skated over to Ciarán, flipping his board up into his hand. “You gonna let me teach you how to skate?” 

 

Ciarán rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “No.”

 

“Aw, c’mon.” Matt crouched down to be eye-level with Ciarán. “I told you I wouldn’t let you fall. Plus, no one’s around.”

 

Ciarán rolled his eyes, trying not to look right at Matt. He messed up his own hair, eyes wandering around before finally he sighed. “Fine.” He stood. “Just this once.”

 

“Awesome,” Matt put the board down. He motioned to it and held his arm out for Ciarán to steady himself while getting on the board. 

 

One foot first, Ciarán stepped onto Matt’s skateboard, not yet grabbing onto his arm. He put his foot the way he saw Matt do time and time again. His lifted his back foot he was keeping his weight on, just testing. The skateboard began to move and Ciarán grabbed onto Matt’s forearm as he quickly stepped onto the board entirely, shaky. 

 

“Nice, not bad!” Matt pushed Ciarán’s ankle apart with the toe of his shoe to fix his stance. He smiled up at him and it did something to Ciarán’s stomach. “How’s it feel being taller than me for once?”

 

“We’re the same height.” 

 

“Sure.”

 

Ciarán’s shoved Matt a bit, but the skateboard moved. He gasped a bit and grabbed onto his arm tighter, making Matt laugh. 

 

“Careful.” Matt put a hand on the small of Ciarán’s back. “Don’t push the guy keeping you steady, Ciar.” 

 

“Why do you always call me that?” Ciarán mumbled, his gaze low. His face was burning, mind racing. Was Matt coming onto him? What were the motives here? 

 

Matt was quiet for a second, a first for him in a while. He shrugged, then. “Do you not like it?”

 

“No, it’s not that, just…”

 

“Just what?” Matt’s voice was low and scratchy. He was so close Ciarán could feel his breath, cigarette smoke hanging off it. He could almost reach out and touch his chest, where words were tattooed under his shirt, he could maybe even reach far enough to bring them even closer. He wanted to get closer. He really did, he could imagine touching him, then. His hand against Matt’s chest. Matt’s lips against his own.

 

Ciarán stepped off the board, then. He turned away from Matt. “Can we get going?”

 

Silence.

 

Ciarán could only hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

 

“Sure.”

 

—

 

Ciarán was sitting on the couch with Dom when he finally brings it up. He’d been avoiding the house for the most part, especially his and Matt’s bedroom. 

 

He was looking at his phone while Dom played Overwatch quick play on the television, ignoring Dom cursing and yelling when he died. Ciarán looked up when Dom went quiet, then. 

 

“I think I like Matt.”

 

He left it at that. 

 

—

 

**_white people have no rights_ **

**dom** : GUYS HOLDY FUCKG

**dom** : CIARAN JSUT SAID HE LIKES MATT IM ABOUT TO GUCKING LOSE MY SHIT

**ian** : hello? tea?

**joba** : i

**dom** : HE BROUGHT IT UP TOO NOT ME

**merlyn** : yall lucky i didn’t mute this gc earlier

**ian** : russell boring stop staring at matt this instant

**joba** : i have 2 leave i cant do this bro

**dom** : IS MATT WITH YALL?

**merlyn** : yeah

**dom** : TELL HIM TO TALK TO CIARAN

**ian** : absolutely not

**ian** : we gotta see how this plays out

**dom** : IF YOU DON’T I’LL TELL CIARAN TO TALK TO MATT

**ian** : DON’T!!!! BITCH!

**merlyn** : joba is going into space currently

**joba** : matts fuckign looking at me what do i do

**ian** : act natural

**ian** : bruh not like that

**dom** : wait yall ciaran just fucking left

**dom** : idk where he went

**ian** : WHAT HAPPENED TO 24 HOUR LOCKDOWN

**ian** : STRAIGHT MEN CAN’T DO FUCKING ANYTHING

 

—

 

Feeling awkward, Ciarán stood as Dom typed frantically on his phone. All his dirty laundry was out in the open and his stomach felt like it was in knots.

 

He quietly found his way down the hall to his and Matt’s bedroom, opening the door and closing it without making too much of a ruckus. He sat down on his bed before laying back, staring at the ceiling and sighing. 

 

Usually, he thought, saying it out loud was supposed to help. Like when he realized he wanted to be a musician. He said it into the empty space of his bedroom, back in Belfast, as if willing it to existence. This just felt heavier. Like a secret that became a deeper and deeper grave he was digging for himself. 

 

Ciarán sat up and looked at Matt’s side of the room. There was dirty clothes and a pillow on the floor, clothes hangers and shoes strewn about. It was messy, but it was home. Matt made it home. Ciarán was honestly used to it by now. 

 

The door opened quietly and Ciarán didn’t look up until he heard it click close. 

 

Matt was standing in the doorway, his beanie sideways on his head. His hands were shoved in his pockets and there was almost a smile across his crooked mouth. “Hey.”

 

Ciarán hadn’t seen him in a while. He still sparked that low, rumbly fire inside his stomach, though. He’d been avoiding this. He really had. Did Dom tell Matt? Why was Matt looking at him like that? Would he even feel the same?

 

“Hey.” Ciarán sat up and ran a hand through his hair.

 

“You’ve been MIA, man. You avoiding me or somethin’?” Matt toed his sneakers off and shot Ciarán a joking smile before falling into his bed. “Me and Joba were playing on our Switches, and we’re playing Mario Maker, right? One of the dumb levels Merlyn made. Anyways, Joba gets stuck in this one part, clipping through the—”

 

“Matt?”

 

“Huh? Oh, I was just rambling, huh?” Matt sat up to look at Ciarán. 

 

Facing him, now, each on their own bed, it made Ciarán’s heart feel like it was settling into a new home in his throat. He swallowed it down the best he could. “Can I say something?”

 

“Sure, dude. Anything, you know me.” Matt tilted his head, seeing Ciarán hesitate.

 

Then, Matt was sitting next to Ciarán on his bed, their knees touching. It made Ciarán’s head spin with how close Matt was, now, as close as they had been at the skatepark. 

 

“Is everything okay, Ciar? You look upset.”

 

The thoughts of Matt touching him more made Ciarán feel like he was drowning. He needed to take this breath.

 

“I think..,” his voice was barely a whisper, barely enough for Matt to even register. Ciarán coughed, cleared his throat. “Can I just,” he looked over at Matt, staring at him closely, confused. 

 

Ciarán leaned in and kissed Matt on the lips gently, then. His eyes fluttered close as he took it all in. He was kissing Matt.

 

Oh.

 

Oh, God. He was kissing Matt Champion.

 

Jesus.

 

Ciarán pulled back, face screwing up. He just kissed Matt, his roommate, friend, bandmate. Nothing more. It felt like he had just kissed someone’s foot. He appreciated it as a part of a greater whole, but it was revolting. 

 

“Wh-what?” Matt blinked.

 

“Can we,” Ciarán pinched the bridge of his nose. “Actually, can we not talk about that?”

 

Matt nodded, still stunned. His face was flushed a bright pink, his freckles standing out against the blush. It didn’t spark anything in Ciarán because, well, it was  _ Matt. _

 

After a moment, Matt shrugged. “No big deal.”

 

“We’re still friends, right?”

 

Matt laughed, then, and punched Ciarán in the arm. “Of course, man. We’re bros.”

 

Ciarán grinned.

 

— 

 

**_björkhamster gc >:)c_ **

**ciarán** : so

**ciarán** : some news

**ciarán** : i don’t have a crush on matt we’re just friends and i like it that way

**ian** : hello?

**dom** : i still hate this gc name

**merlyn** : what did we miss

**joba** : finally i can have matt to myself

**matt** : also i like men now

**joba** : i 

**ian** : matt sweetie we’ve known


End file.
